twilight elsanna style redo
by elsannafan55
Summary: so I decided to redo this to fix a few things and add to it but I'm still working on breaking Dawn this is just a redo of the saga to try to make things better. but whichever version you guys like more is okay
1. preface/first sight

I'd never given much thought to how I would die, though I'd had reason enough in the last few months. Even if I had, I would not have imagined it like this.

I stared without breathing across the long room, into the dark eyes of the hunter, and he looked pleasantly back at me.

Surely it was a good way to die, I wagered. In the place of someone else, someone I loved. Noble, even. That ought to count for something.

I knew that if I'd never gone to Forks, I wouldn't be facing death now. Terrified as I was, I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision. When life offers you a dream so far beyond any of your expectations, it's not unreasonable to grieve when it comes to an end.

The hunter smiled, luminous and friendly, as he sauntered forward to kill me.

On the last day I lived in Phoenix, my mother drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees, the sky was its signature, cloudless, blue and the wind was electrifying. As a farewell gesture, I decided to wear a shirt my mom had bought me for my last birthday – a sleeveless, white, eyelet lace shirt. The smile on her face when she saw me in it was the warmth I needed to keep the heat alive for the foreseeable future...and when I boarded the plane, all I had was my bag, a suitcase, and a parka.

My dad, David, lives in the Olympic Peninsula of the northwest Washington State, in a small town named Forks that is under an almost constant cover and clouds and rain. It rains more often in this inconsequential town than any other place that I know of, at least within the States. It was from this tiny, gloomy, omnipresent shadow that my mother escaped with me when I was only a few months old. It was in this tiny town that I'd been compelled to spend an entire month almost every summer until I was fourteen. That was the year I finally put my foot down and David took time off work to vacation with me for two weeks instead.

As much as I loved Phoenix, the sun, and even the blistering heat, this change was worth it. I don't know how convincing my smile was at the airport, maybe my mom was trying hard to pretend I wasn't happy with this self-imposed exile, but before we turned in my ticket she stopped me.

"Anna," She said to me – the last of a thousand times. "You don't have to do this."

Watching her face, her eyes so wide and childlike with worry, my resolve strengthened me. No one could say in this moment, regardless of how many harebrained things she had said or done in my life, that she didn't love me and want me to be happy. Even with having met and married my Step-dad Phil, and with it the reassurance that there would be someone to remind her to do things like 'pay bills' or 'cook without the smoke-alarm as a timer', staying simply wasn't a choice I could live with.

"Mom, I want to go," the lie fell from me, with more eloquence than any other lie I could remember making.

"I'll see you soon," She promised, her eyes insisting, even as I knew the likelihood of seeing her soon was like waiting on rain in the desert. "You can come home whenever you want – I'll come right back as soon as you need me."

She was so earnest, which was part of the problem. We both needed to learn how to stand on our own feet. There was pain in her eyes, more than just the pain of parting, and she couldn't hide it from me anymore than I could hide my dislike of Forks from her.

"Don't worry, okay?" I urged, squeezing her hand. "I'll manage, see how dad likes being babysat for a while," the joke fell from me, and for a moment there was laughter in her eyes.

"Say hi to David for me."

"I will," I replied, slightly pained, as she squeezed my hand back a mite too hard.

"I'll see you soon," She insisted with anxiety creeping back into her voice. "And if you want to come ho-"

"Mom, I'm gonna have a great time with Dad. I'll call you when I land," I promised her, and she wrapped her arms around me. That one minute felt like all the sun from Phoenix was pooling into my skin, and in a moment I was on the plane, and she was gone.

It's about a four hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, on a good day, and another hour in a small plane to arrive at Port Angeles – a city near the Canadian Border. The time spent in the air didn't really bother me...the hour-long drive to Forks with David was another story.

To commend him, David had been pretty nice about this whole situation. He seemed genuinely happy that I was coming to live with him with any degree of permanence. Before I left Phoenix, he'd already gotten me registered for their local high school, and he promised to help me get a car.

David was a great man to have as a father, but being alone with him for any lengthy period of time was uncomfortably awkward. Neither one of us was what anyone would call 'verbose', and two people who aren't prone to lengthy conversation often end up sitting in silence for hours together. An hour of silence, with no radio, was hard enough. An hour of my father asking me questions? Even worse.

I didn't doubt that he was more than a little confused as to why I wanted to move to Forks – I'd never made a secret of how I hated it there. So when I landed to the familiar rainy climate of Port Angeles, I didn't see it as an omen more-so than the inevitable. Olive, muted, green parka strapped around me, I'd made my peace with the loss of sunshine. My father's brown eyes waiting for me in the driver's seat of his police cruiser, were equally inevitable.

Stepping out of the Cruiser when I approached, my father – Police Chief Winters, of Forks – moved to give me an awkward, one-armed, hug.

"Hey, Anna, don't fall over," he said, smiling as he caught and steadied me against his side. Which was, in hindsight, a good thing, as my shoes weren't made for the rain and I about stumbled down the ramp toward him.

"I'm fine, thanks, Dad," I said with some effort to at least pretend to be as thrilled to be here as David seemed to be.

"This all your bags?" He asked, ever the practical person, and I shook my head as his arm moved out from around me. Hugs that were too long made both of us uncomfortable, especially with onlookers present.

What I brought was soon packed into the back seat of the Police Cruiser, very little of which were actually clothes. After all, most of the things one wears in Arizona simply aren't warm enough for constant rainfall, so while mom and I had pooled our resources to buy me enough to get buy for a while, I had brought mostly books, necessities, and things I couldn't bear to leave behind.

"I found a good car for you," David announced as soon as we were both strapped in.

"What kind of car?" My voice could only thinly veil my concern, what did 'good car – for you -' signify, anyway? Was it cheap?

His mouth curled into a mild grumble, a usual expression he made when he was having trouble wording himself. "Well, it's not so much a car...but a truck. A Chevy, Billy Black's old truck."

My confusion when he glanced over at me made him pause. "You know, Billy Black from La Push? He used to go fishing with us during the summer," David prompted, several times, but still I could feel myself blinking far too much in confusion. A gesture most recognized as 'Deer in headlights' or 'please stop trying to talk to me, I'm uncomfortable,' and my father struggled to tow the line between explaining and alienating.

"Sorry, it's been a long time..."

The apology soothed him, and he relented from making explanations. "Well, He's in a wheelchair now, so he can't drive anymore and offered it to me."

If I could acknowledge how much my mouth pursing in response looked like my father's uncomfortable grumble, it might have bothered me, but still – I made it. "How old is it?" Or the veiled question: Is it going to fall apart half-way down the street?

My father's sinking expression, nay the powerful cringe that made his mustache twist into a half-open curtain, meant he had been hoping I wouldn't ask.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine over the years, so it's not in as rough shape as one might think."

My stomach knotted, my mouth curled...my father reluctantly explained more.

"It's a 1984, around there."

I didn't need to ask if 'around there' meant he shaved off a year or...twenty.

"...I don't know, Dad, I don't know the first thing about Trucks. If it broke down, I really can't afford to pay for something like that-"

He interrupted me, with an optimistic chuckle. "I wouldn't tell ya about it if it wasn't up to snuff. They don't make engines like that anymore, it's been thoroughly examined, Anna."

"And how cheap was this...truck, Dad."

"Oh, not too much," he said in a cryptic sort of manner.

My head turned, so I could study his face as he struggled. "That doesn't help me, Dad."

"Erm, well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you," he confessed, peeking sideways at me as he drove with a gleam of hope in his expression.

I blinked, this time from being stunned. David bought me a car. It sounded too good to be true.

"How much do I owe you, then?"

His mustache wiggled in distaste at the question. "Keep your spending money, I got it for you as a" – he strained for a reason – "homecoming present."

The word felt weird to me, so weird it diminished what joy I had of having a free car. Forks. Home. Those words were like oil and water; but, they didn't weigh me down for long.

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks," it was all I could say, and it was more than enough to perk up my father.

"I don't mind, you'll be happier to not be cooped up at the house all the time, anyway," he said, looking ahead at the road now that any risk of troubling conversation was out of the way. We both weren't comfortable with expressing our emotions out loud, and when he stopped watching me, I turned my head to look out the window.

"Thanks, Dad, I appreciate it," my reply seemed to make him uncomfortably bashful, as compliments often do to the socially obscure.

"Well, you're welcome," he said simply, albeit, embarrassed by my thanks.

We continued on for the rest of the drive in mutual silence, which wasn't as abhorrent as I imagined it would be. The scenery was beautiful, the tall stretching trees reaching up into the gray clouds and torrential rain above. Even though it had no warmth, no sun, the green had wick, had a vibrancy, that Phoenix didn't have. A world covered in a blanket of moss, canopies of gnarled branches and leafy ferns. Even the air seemed to soak down through the leaves with an aura of green mist.

It was simply too green for me, an alien landscape when one is used to dust and unencumbered sun.

Eventually, the Cruiser arrived to David's house. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with my mother when they first got married. It was there, parked on the street near the mailbox – and to my intense surprise, I loved it. My 'new to me' truck – faded red with large rounded fenders, and a bulbous cab. It had tales to tell, history to whisper of, and even though I had no idea how to drive a truck – I could imagine myself driving it. For a moment, I understood what excited Tim Taylor about Hot Rods. A glimmer of a car buff lurked inside me, and in that moment I had to touch it.

My father was eerily silent, waiting and watching for any kind of abhorrence from me. In the back of my mind, I could feel his eyes on my face; but, I didn't care.

The smile filled me, even if it barely showed on my inexpressive mouth. "Wow, Dad, I love him!"

The car was open and my feet led me to the driver's door before I could hear his reaction. I just held my hands against the rusted paint of the Driver's door. Watching inside the window, which was too wet from the rain to properly see inside. I didn't need to see inside to know the seats had been cleaned and any belongings of Billy Black's had been removed.

The Cruiser door shut, but I didn't look away as my father approached me. "Him?"

The worry in his voice made my stomach knot uncomfortably. "Well, this car kinda feels like a guy, is all." I commented, which was true to me, as this car was so large it reminded me of Red Asphalt. A video warning teenagers to drive safely in Driver's Ed Class, often showing the grueling carnage of vehicular manslaughter in all its brash glory. Watching the truck, I felt like he would be on the side of the road next to whatever foreign car tried to crash into him. A little paint chipped, but otherwise okay. This truck was a moving shield, a modern affordable tank, and I felt safer knowing this beast of a truck was mine.

Beast, that sounded like a good name.

My father, who seemed to think it weird that any person would declare love to a car, awkwardly shrugged beside me. "Well...I'm glad you like him...er, it."

David gruffly walked away, and I could hear him opening the Cruiser's back seat to start carrying my things inside.

Reluctantly, I left the Beast and headed inside.

It only took one trip to get all my belongings upstairs to my bedroom, which had stayed 'my room' since before I was born. As weirdly relieved as I was that he hadn't gotten rid of my twin bed and other things when I stopped coming up here for the Summer, it was a comfort to see a place I was familiar with. The crib had been switched out for a bed and desk when I was too old to be in a crib; but, otherwise the room remained the same. Yellowed lace curtains still hung from the windows, which faced west, toward the front yard. Taking in the wooden floor, the paled blue walls, the peaked ceiling – memories of my childhood filled me.

With one difference, my room was untouched. A secondhand computer, with a phone line for the modem stapled along the floor, greeted me as it sat on my desk. My mom had insisted on my having one, so we could stay in touch more easily with calls being so expensive long-distance.

Sitting down in the rocking chair that remained in the corner from my baby days, my eyes drifted to the hallway. There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, and I tried not to dwell on the fact that I would have to share it with David.

Taking in my room, unchanged after years of gathering time, I was relieved that David didn't check on me now that we were home. He was never one to hover, and it was one of the best things about him. He always left me alone to unpack and get settled in, which was something that was impossible for my mom to do. It was nice to be left alone, not to have to pretend to smile and look pleased; a relief to be able to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let them water unencumbered. I wasn't in the mood to let the tears fall into a crying session; but, it was only a matter of time – days, weeks, hours, before it happened.

Tomorrow I was starting out at Forks High School, home of the Spartans. While it only had a terrifying total of three hundred and fifty-eight students, there were over seven hundred people in my junior class alone back in Phoenix. In the large crowd, you could blend in and disappear if you wanted to. All the kids here had grown up together – hell, their grandparents had probably been toddlers together. I would be the new girl from a big city, a curiosity, maybe even a freak. Maybe, if I looked like a 'normal' girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I wasn't a tan, sporty, blond volleyball player. Nor did I have the charisma to pretend I was ever a cheerleader – all the things that tend to give you away for living in the valley of the sun didn't apply to me. Pale skin, dark brown hair, no muscle mass, and no hand-eye coordination to play any kind of sport without humiliating myself...or worse, harming whoever happened to be standing too close when I tried.

When I finished putting my clothes in the old pine dresser, I took my bag of girl's necessities to the bathroom to clean up after a long day of travel. In the mirror, as I brushed my tangled, damp, hair, it was strange to see the person looking back at me. She looked as melancholy as I felt, and maybe it was the light – but I looked malnourished or sallow. In the sun, my skin could be pretty sometimes – it was clear of acne and almost translucent – but it all depended on the color. Here, I had no color and I felt like a specter, a ghost of myself haunting the mirror.

It wasn't so much my appearance that bothered me though, I wasn't unattractive, but if I couldn't find a niche in a school with three thousand people, what were my chances of finding something here? I didn't relate well to people my age, or maybe the truth was I just didn't relate well to people in general.

Even my mother, who I was closer to than anyone else on the planet, was never in harmony with me. We were never exactly on the same page, and sometimes I wondered if I was seeing the same world that she was. Our worlds and frame of mind were so different, and she would never understand why I needed to be here in Forks. She had Phil now, and when I was there she couldn't be with him as often as she wanted to be. She'd always been like that, flying too close to the sun. Phil was good for her, and he was a nice guy to have as a step-dad, but they needed time to be alone and I didn't want to keep feeling like a third wheel.

In the morning, I awoke with red eyes. Whether it was the constant whooshing of wind and rain against the roof that never faded into the background, or the tears I had shed before exhaustion finally broke me, sleep remained an elusive mayfly. Right now the rain was a quieter drizzle on the roof, and even with knowing I woke up earlier than the alarm, the chances of me going back to sleep were slim.

Thick fog was all I could see outside my window, and the claustrophobia began creeping up on me. You could never see the sky here; a gray cage holding you in.

After another shower, breakfast with David was a quiet event. He wished me good luck at school, and I thanked him for the thought. Good luck tended to avoid me, and I didn't think my stars would be changing anytime soon. David left soon after, to go to the police station that was his wife and family, now. After I left, I sat at the old square oak table in one of the three un-matching chairs and examined the small kitchen, with its dark paneled walls, bright yellow cabinets, and linoleum floor.

Nothing had changed.

My mother had painted these cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. Over the small fireplace in the adjoining living room was a row of pictures. My mom and David looked happy together in Las Vegas. The next photo was one of the three of us in the hospital after I had been born, taken by a helpful nurse, with mom looking happy; but, worn out. He next photos were a progression of my school pictures up until last year's photo, which was embarrassing to look at and I found myself turning those photos of me around or face down so I wasn't staring at me.

Charlie had never gotten over my mom, and being in this house was a constant reminder of a past I was too small to remember. Trying to think of my parents as a couple just reminded me of arguments and shouting matches, things best put in the back of my mind and left there.

With the photos there, haunting me, I couldn't stand to stay here alone in the house any longer. Donning my olive green parka, which felt more like a bio-hazard suit than a jacket, I headed out into the rain with my school bag.

It was still mildly drizzling, though not enough to soak me through immediately. Keys in my pocket, I rushed through the wet puddles on the way to my new truck, waterproof shoes feeling weird as I wobbled from the front door. In Phoenix, the crunching of gravel was a comforting sensation before school, and my soles missed it.

Inside the truck, however, it was nice and dry. The tan upholstered seats smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint, which was nicer than I had expected the truck to smell. For a few minutes I just breathed it in, turning the car on to get some heat brewing and letting it roar to life.

The Beast was loud, and he purred at full vroom. But, well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. At least the radio worked, a plus I hadn't expected to find, and an oldies rock station was better than listening to the rain when I finally pulled out of the driveway.

Finding Forks High wasn't that difficult, even though I'd never been here before. Almost all things near Forks, it could be found off the highway. However, if not for the large sign, I might not have known it was even a school. It was just a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs around them that I couldn't see how large the school was at first. Where was the feel of the institution? I wondered, with some nostalgia. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors, the security guards patrolling out front by the parking lot?

Parking in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door which read 'front office', I stepped out of the toasty truck cab. No one else had parked near me, so I guessed that this area was off limits for student parking; but, it was better to park here than circle around the parking lot like an idiot. Walking beside a path lined with dark hedges, I paused to take a deep breath before I opened the door.

Inside, the office was brightly lit and warmer than I'd hoped it would be. A little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, and a large clock ticking loudly greeted me. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there simply wasn't enough greenery outside, which made me feel like I could never escape the clustered forest. The small office was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored fliers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was mannered by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed.

Eventually, the red-haired woman looked up at me. "Can I help you?"

Now or never, I braced myself as I approached the counter. "Hi, I'm Anna Winters."

She stared at me, as though that was not enough of an explanation for her.

I blinked a reply, and finally she realized who I was. "Oh! Anna?"

My face burned from embarrassment. "Yeah, Anna," I corrected, always feeling strange when someone used my full name that I'd almost forgotten to mention it.

Immediate awareness lit up the woman's eyes as she clicked on her mouse and began typing things into her keyboard to pull up my information. I didn't doubt she hadn't heard of me, Chief Winters's long lost daughter, finally coming home to Forks. Probably the best gossip one managed to get around this tight knit community.

"Of course, of course," She said before digging through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk. She kept flipping through paperwork until she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school," she brought several sheets to the counter and set them down in front of me.

With a highlighter pen, the annoying pink kind, she went through my classes for me, highlighting the best routes to each class on the map, and gave me a slip to have each of my teachers sign.

"Just bring that back at the end of the day, Anna," were the last words I payed attention to before I turned away. She had smiled at me with hopeful eyes, the way David had looked at me this morning, that I might like it here in Forks. Smiling back as convincingly as I could, it was gone by the time I reached the door.

Other students were starting to arrive by the time I made it back to my truck, and I drove around the school to follow the line of traffic. At least most of the cars were older like mine, nothing new or flashy. At home, I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot, there. Still, I cut the engine as soon as I found a parking spot, so that the thunderous bellowing of my Beast wouldn't draw extra attention to me.

Alone, I looked at the school map in my truck, trying to memorize it so I wouldn't get too lost before first period. While I hoped I wouldn't have to walk around with my nose stuck into the map all day, it was no doubt another inevitability of my being here.

Stuffing everything I needed back into my bag, slinging it over my shoulder, I took in a deep breath. Sucking the air in and holding it in my lungs so I didn't look like a chipmunk. You can do this, I told myself with more confidence than I felt.

No one was going to bite me, after all.

Finally exhaling, I stepped out of the truck and locked it behind me. Keeping my face pulled back into the hood of my parka, I walked to the sidewalk – which was crowded with teenagers – and hoped my plain black sweater didn't stand out.

Once I moved around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black '3' was painted on a white square on the east corner. Feeling my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation, I approached the door. Holding my breath, my feet followed a pair of raincoats through the doorway.

The classroom was small, smaller than I had imagined it to have been. The people in front of me stopped just outside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks, so I copied them. Choosing a nail on the back edge of the classroom, my eyes darted back out of sheer curiosity to watch the two girls I had followed into the room. One was a porcelain-skinned blond, the other was slightly less pale with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't stand out here, I relished with some relief.

Uncomfortably approaching a balding man I presumed to be the teacher, Mr. Mason, his eyes rose to study my face immediately before he took my slip. The instantaneous gawking he made when he read my name was not an encouraging response, and like anyone who was now being watched by everyone in the room – I could feel my face flush with blood.

To my rescue, Mr. Mason sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the rest of the class. As nice as it was to be there, it didn't stop the other students from turning around to look at me. So, I kept my eyes down and pretended to have more interest in the reading list my teacher had given me. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. Most of which were rather boring to me. I'd already done essays and reports on their work back in Phoenix, and in my head I went over what my mom would say if I asked her to mail me my old essays to turn in. It did not go well, assuming of course my mom could even find where I stored my old papers.

When the bell rang it's loud and nasaly buzzing sound, a gangly boy with acne and black hair leaned across the aisle to talk to me.

"You're Anna Winters, aren't you?" He looked like he belonged in the Chess club, or something.

"Yes," I said, and unfortunately everyone in a three-seat radius turned to look at my face.

"Where's your next class?"

I had to tug the map back out of my bag to check before I could answer. "Um, Government in Building Six, with Jefferson?"

There was nowhere to look that wasn't filled with curious eyes, so I kept watching my hands.

"I'm headed to building four, I can show you the way, if you want," He asked, far too helpful and obliging for my comfort zone. "I'm Eric," he added, and I could feel my mouth torn between a smile and a grimace from unease.

"Thanks," I muttered before standing up.

Walking back to the row of wet coats, I picked out my olive jacket and slid it back on before we headed into the rain – which had gone from a drizzle to wet and sloppy droplets. It may have been the constant battering of rain against the top of my hood, but it felt like there were several people behind us walking close enough to eavesdrop, and to be honest I worried of being paranoid.

Realizing I wasn't going to initiate a conversation, Eric began to prattle on. "So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?"

The question was so obvious it hurt. "Very."

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

My time here was doomed if rain was the only thing these people could talk about. "No, not really. Couple times."

Eric looked genuinely awed, which made it worse. "Wow, what must that be like?"

"Um, sunny," I tried to smile, but in my heart I knew it was a grimace.

"Huh, you don't look very tan."

Great, I'm being rescued by captain obvious. "I must be part albino."

Eric studied my face apprehensively as we walked, and I quietly sighed under my breath. It looked like clouds and a sense of humor didn't mix well. A few months of this and I might even forget how to use sarcasm altogether.

Poor guy didn't get it, until I blurted out an awkward laugh and he realized I was joking.

"Oh, sorry, I just thought everyone in Phoenix was really tan."

"Nah, I just roast," I said honestly.

He laughed, I guess he thought this was another one of my 'weird jokes'. We walked in silence the rest of the way around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. He walked me right to the door, even though it was clearly marked.

"Well, good luck," he said as I touched the door handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together?" He sounded so hopeful, and I felt bad that my stomach could only cringe in response.

Smiling as best I could fake, I waved lightly before turning to head inside.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, was the only professor to make me stand in front of the classroom and introduce myself. If that wasn't a reason enough to dislike him, trigonometry was the worst class I could think of besides P.E, and now I had even more reasons to not want to be in here.

Stammering, blushing, and flopping when I almost tripped several times back to my seat, I just spent the rest of the class with my book held up in front of my face. Just, waiting to die, I guess.

After two more classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. As much as I tried to be diplomatic, lies and grimace-smiles were the only kindness I could muster. At least I never needed the map again, people seemed to like escorting the fresh meat around.

One girl, who sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five foot six inches; but, her wildly curly dark hair made up for the difference in our heights. Bad as I felt to admit it to myself, her name escaped me. Doing my best to smile and nod as she prattled on about teachers and classes, I didn't try and keep up with the conversation.

After the long line to get something for lunch, we sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends. She introduced me to all of them, immediately; but, I couldn't retain them longer than about three seconds. They seemed impressed by her bravery in trying to adopt the introvert, and Eric waved at me from across the lunchroom.

It was all so overwhelming, and while I was grateful that so many were trying to make me feel welcome, all the new faces and thousand questions drowned me.

Desperate to avoid being roped into a larger conversation, my eyes strayed to other tables, ones more empty or distant from the one I had been led to. It was there, feigning interest in trying to respond to seven curious strangers, that I first saw them.

They were sitting together in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them, and they weren't talking or eating, even though each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. They were the only ones not gawking at me, they didn't seem to notice or care that I was here.

It was refreshing, and I felt safe to stare at them without fear of meeting another excessively interested pair of eyes.

It was none of these comforts that caught, and held, my attention. They didn't look anything alike, for starters. One of the two boys was huge – muscled like a weight lifter, with dark, curly, hair. The other was taller; but, slender. Lean with honey blond hair.

The girls were the opposites, which was fascinating to me. The tallest girl was so statuesque, she had a model's figure, the kind that made every girl in the room feel a blow to their self esteem. I half expected her to be in a cheerleader's uniform; but, she was too resigned a posture to make me think she would want to be one. Her hair was her crown, a rich and golden wave that ended at the middle of her back.

Beside her, a shorter girl reminded me of Julia Roberts as Tinkerbell – only her hair was black instead of red. She was so slender, like she had been plucked from a French foreign film and set down at the table impeccably dressed. Short pixie hair vibrant with life and pointing elegantly in every direction that framed her face.

Still, my attention wasn't held, because there was one other girl seated beside the pixie-haired fairy. She had blonde hair, dark eyes, and she looked more tomboyish than the others. She was lanky when compared to the other blond Athena; but, she was so poised and for whatever reason, she was radiant.

Despite all these differences, they were ironically alike. Every one of them was a chalky, pale, color to their skin. The palest of all the students I had seen today who were living in this sunless town. Paler than me, even, which was not something I saw very often. They all had dark eyes, despite their range in hair tones. Dark shadows, purplish like faint bruises, rested under their eyes. As if all of them were suffering from a sleepless night, or nearly recovered from broken noses. For the first, a sleepless night might explain their silence. For the second, their noses – nay, all their features – looked too perfect, straight, or angular, to make me think they had broken their noses.

Even this, strange as it is, was not why I couldn't look away.

I stared because all of their faces – so different and similar – were all devastatingly, inhumanly, beautiful. They were faces you never expected to see outside of purposefully airbrushed fashion covers. I would sooner have believed that they were cut out sheets painted by Michealangelo and held up to look like students than that they were real.

It was impossible to tell who was the most beautiful; but, my eyes kept sliding back and forth between the blond girls who was partially blocked from view.

They were all looking away – away from each other, away from the other students, away from anything in particular as far as I could tell. As if they all decided to just sit there and daydream, or they could sleep with their eyes open. As I watched, the small fairy rose with her tray – unopened soda, unbitten apple, and walked away with a quick, graceful, loop. Ballet feet in shoes I couldn't see moved toward the trash cans to dump her tray and pause.

She stayed, as though looking past the crowd during an opera performance, and almost looked in my direction before she glided – floated – out the door. Glancing back to the others, it amazed me that they had not moved, despite the departure of their friend.

Unable to resist my curiosity any longer, I reached out to touch the arm of the girl from my Spanish class. She stopped listening to her friend to look at me with curious eyes, and it was all the incentive I needed.

"Who are they?" I asked, gently pointing toward the table.

She looked up for a fraction of a second, enough to tell where I was pointing to, before she lost interest and focused on her sandwich long enough to take a bite out of it.

"Those are the Cullen's. Dr. Cullen and his wife's foster kids," she whispered, once she had swallowed that bite of sandwich.

Foster kids, I thought quietly to myself, unable to wrap my head around it. The girl next to me took this as her moment to explain more, and did so with a quietly bashful look. "That one that left, her name is Alice. The boys are Emmett" – she pointed to the weight lifter – "and Jasper," the lithe blond boy with his thick blond locks was gestured to.

"I wish they weren't all...dating," she said with morose.

That comment just raised too many questions. "Dating?"

She nodded to me, setting down her sandwich. "Yeah, they all live together, it's weird. Rumor is that Dr. Cullen is some kind of matchmaker, but my friend Josie has seen Emmett and Rosalie kiss before class sometimes, and Alice and Jasper hold hands and cuddle all the time."

My attention was drawn to the girl with short blonde hair, and held there with some strange sinking feeling in my stomach. "Is that Rosalie?"

She followed my finger to the girl who was looking down at her tray, picking a bagel to pieces with her long, pale, fingers. Her mouth was moving very quickly, her perfect lips were barely opening. Was she mumbling to herself? The other three were still looking away, out the window, daydreaming; I couldn't guess.

Sandwich girl responded with a giggle. "No, that's Emmett's sister, Elsa," she said with amusement before she took another bite from her meal.

For whatever reason I had no appetite. Maybe it was being in the same room with Zeus' long lost children, or I just didn't feel comfortable eating around a giant group of people, but my stomach was in knots. It twisted and churned, like a slow-spin washing machine turning delicates. Their names didn't seem odd to me at the time, true they were old names; but, there were worse names I'd heard of and a lot of kids were named after their grandparents.

If not for one of the other girls at my table saying it, I wouldn't have remembered that sandwich girl was named Jessica. A name that was easy enough to remember, one could hope.

"Do they...always look so..." I didn't know what to say, I just trailed off.

"It's insane how good they look," Jessica agreed with another giggle. All the condemnation of her earlier statements had begun to leave her voice.

"But, if Jasper or Emmett – weren't – off the market, who would you go for?"

The question unsettled me, so much so that I blinked. "I don't know..."

Jessica chuckled again. "Come on, it's a fun game."

Her insistence in noticing the boys made it worse, for some reason. "I didn't really think about it. They're both good looking, though."

Jessica sighed as she tilted her head playfully at me. "Well, you're no fun, but if you make up your mind, tell me."

Desperate to change the subject from 'love interests' and flirting, I tried to say the least sexy question on my mind. "So, they're not really related? Or..."

She nodded. "Pfft, no way. Dr. Cullen is pretty young – early thirties if you can even imagine him being that old. But, they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's like Elsa, Alice, and Emmett's aunt or something? I don't know all the history."

"That's really kind of her, to take care of all of them like that, did something bad happen with their parents?"

"I guess," Jessica said with some reluctance, and I got the impression that she didn't like Dr. Cullen or his wife for some reason. With all the glances she was throwing at the adopted children, I could only guess she was feeling some kind of jealousy. A vibe that made me very uncomfortable to be around, so I gently pushed my tray away from me to not have the smell of food in my nose. "I think Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, anyway."

While I thought that only added to the kindness of Mrs. Cullen's loving heart, I felt like if I mentioned it verbally, Jessica's jealous nature, or annoyance, would grow. A can of worms I didn't want to risk opening, tonight.

"So, have they always lived in Forks?" I asked, surely I would have noticed the on one of my summers here.

"No," Jessica said in a harsher tone than she might have meant, as if I had asked a stupid question. "They moved down two years ago, from somewhere in Alaska."

A surge of pity and relief filled me. Pity, because as beautiful as they were – they were outsiders who were clearly not accepted. Relief that I wasn't the only newcomer here, and certainly not the most interesting newcomer by anyone's standards.

Examining all of them, each different work of art, my eyes fell to the blonde-haired Cullen. Her fingers were still tearing apart the bagel with no interest in eating it, and I felt like she had artist's hands, but she was too far away for me to say that with any degree of certainty.

This time; however, the girl looked up and for a moment I felt like her eyes bore into my soul. Evident curiosity in her expression as she gazed across the tables back at me. I don't know what it was, a pull, an undertow, but I couldn't bear to look into her eyes when she watched me. I could feel her watching me, even as I looked down at my hands.

If ever there was a reason to sink into a table and disappear, now would have been the perfect time. I don't know if I blushed or paled, the sting to my face burned and froze, and I found myself listless and dizzy.

Desperate for Jessica to remain oblivious to my social awkwardness, I pressured myself into asking more. "W-Who is that girl with the blonde hair dating?"

I peeked with the corner of my eye to see if she was still watching me, and she was still staring with those piercing, lioness, eyes. This time she looked frustrated, as though I had in some way insulted her by not holding eye-contact. In fear, my eyes darted down again.

"Who, Elsa? She's the only one who doesn't have a boyfriend," Jessica said, with some relief. "I guess none of the boys here are good enough for her, which just leaves more for us, huh?" she leaned in with a cheshire smile and playfully poked me with her elbow.

"Urm, yeah. Sure, Jessica."

It felt strange to feel elated that Elsa didn't have a boyfriend, even if I couldn't put my finger on why at the time. Someone who doesn't have a boyfriend has time to do whatever they want to do, and I thought that maybe if she was single she might have time to make friends.

I don't know why I cared so much that Elsa have a friend, maybe because her siblings had someone to share their pain with and she didn't. It was rare in my life that someone had both a lover and a best friend. One or the other was the way it went, at least for my mom.

Unable to stop myself, I flicked my eyes up to sneak another glance at Elsa. Her face was turned away from me now; but, it looked as though her cheek was lifted. I hoped she was smiling, even if the likelihood of her smiling because of me was slim.

After a few more minutes of watching Elsa and her family, the four of them left the table together. They all were noticeably graceful – even the big, brawny, Emmett moved with some measure of ease. I found it unsettling to watch. Elsa didn't look at me again before she left; but, that didn't stop me from watching her until I couldn't see her anymore.

Sitting with Jessica and her friends for longer than I usually sat down during lunch when I was alone, I began to feel incredibly restless. Anxiety filled me, and I could only reason I could pin it on was that I didn't want to risk being late for my next class. One of my new acquaintances, who reminded me constantly that her name was Angela, had Biology with me for the next period.

When I stood, Angela stood too, and any hope I had of catching another glimpse of Elsa and her family outside was dashed. Thankfully, she was shy, and we walked in comfortable silence together.

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table with her lab partner, and I felt some comfort that these lab tables looked to be the same kind I had used in Phoenix. The comfort didn't last, as all the seats were taken, except one. Glancing across the room which had quickly filled up, the only seat left in the class made my heart race and my pulse quicken.

Next to the center aisle, Elsa Cullen sat beside the window, scribbling something that looked like random dots or doodles on an expensive looking notebook. Even though she hadn't noticed me, yet, a strange sort of panic filled me at the idea of being so close to her.

Unsure of my mouth was more dry or wet, the lump in my throat nearly suffocating me, I turned as quietly as I could and nearly pummeled into the teacher's desk. The sound wasn't very loud, but it was enough to make my wide eyes flit in her direction to see if she noticed my clumsiness. My side throbbed, but I didn't feel it until later.

Elsa had become rigid in her seat, and her eyes were no longer on her notebook. She was staring at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest bewildered expression on her face – she looked hostile, furious, and it terrified me. If it was possible to turn away from her venom faster without bumping my knee into the table, I would have. My knee and side throbbed now, and my teacher had nothing but humor and pity for me when I finally managed to hand him my slip for him to sign. Fingers shaking so badly that I worried the form would slide right out of my hand when he handed it back to me.

Everything burned, from pain or embarrassment, I couldn't tell anymore. It wasn't just my knee or side that ached, my chest ached; I barely breathed, my stomach throbbed.

"Woah, there, are you alright?" The teacher asked.

My reply was hidden under the laughter of students behind me. "Yeah, fine."

The sheet was handed back to me after my teacher signed it, and all hope of saving face was lost when he pointed behind me...towards Elsa.

"Have a seat, Ms. Winters," he said, and while I turned and looked around like a boat lost at sea, there was still only one seat open. The one beside Elsa; the one beside the girl who for reasons unknown hated me.

Was it because I had been watching her at lunch? Didn't everyone watch her? Was I ugly? Did I have something in my nose?

Nearly tripping over a book that some girl had haphazardly left in the middle aisle between tables, I pretended not to hear the laughter as I stood and sat down beside Elsa. Avoiding her face for one long, terrible, minute before I turned my head to peek at her and see if she was still glaring at me.

She was...and I noticed something else. Her eyes, they were black – coal black.

Glancing away, bewildered by the antagonistic stare she bore into me, I felt a stir in the table we shared. In the corner of my eye, I saw her posture change. She was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of her chair; averting her face. As though I reeked and she couldn't stand how badly I smelled. Concerned, I hunched lower to try and breathe in the smell of my own hair; bergamot, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odor, though, citrus and earthy.

Had I offended her at lunch? When she caught me staring at her? Was there food on my teeth? New acne I hadn't noticed? Not really the type to carry around make up or mini-purse mirrors, I had no means to check my face; but, the question haunted me.

Mr. Banner started the lesson without the need to introduce me to the rest of the class. The lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I already knew from my last Biology teacher, and with nothing new to engage my mind I felt myself look back over at Elsa. Seeing her through the curtain of my hair that I had let fall over my face, she kept looking out the window. Leaning against the glass, unwilling to be bothered by me.

For the entire lecture, she never moved. No more notes were made, and her notebook that I had seen earlier must have vanished into her bag shortly after she had glared at me. When I managed to look down from notes, I saw that her hand was balled into a fist; tendons standing out underneath her pale skin. She was so angry, and I had never noticed how athletic her forearm was. Long white sleeves pulled up to her elbows, she looked on edge, like she wanted to reach out and punch someone for making her sit next to the new kid.

She wasn't nearly as slender as I'd thought she looked earlier, next to her burly brother and pixie-haired sister. Captivated, the class seemed to go on for longer than an hour. Maybe because I kept hoping that her fist would loosen, she would relax, and maybe just casually ignore me than the constant dismissal her vehemence portrayed. Was she always like this around new people? Doubts of Jessica's earlier resentment rose up in my head – maybe she wasn't as prejudiced as I thought…

Surely whatever it was that was bothering her couldn't have been about me. She didn't know me, everyone had to stare at her once in a while – why would that bother her so much? Maybe she was just going through something and she'd be better tomorrow? Daring fate, I moved my hair behind my ear to look over at her face and instantly regretted it.

Her eyes were daggers set to kill, and even though I flinched and scooted my chair away from her, it wasn't enough. Her look was too intense, and I couldn't bear to watch her face anymore. Hair falling in a curtain over my face again, I added my left hand to further protect my face from being offensive to the other while my right hand scribbled notes on the lecture which I could care less about.

Under the weight of her hateful eyes, the bell finally rang, and I jumped up in my chair from surprise. Startled by the sound, I looked up to see Elsa was out of her chair. Moving fluidly around the table, overwhelming me with how tall she was when I was shriveled in the chair, she was out the door before anyone else had a chance to get out of their seat.

Numb; stunned into silence, I stared blankly after the spot I had last seen Elsa. Morose at the absence of her presence from the room, even as the anger of how she treated me filled me with contempt.

What the hell was her problem? Why was she so pissed off at me?

Why the hell did I care...

With the eloquence of a zombie, I started gathering my things and sliding my books back into my backpack; trying desperately to block out the anger before it consumed me. Whenever I was this pissed off, my eyes had a horrible tendency to water up. My temper was hard-wired to my tear-ducts; something I inherited from my mother. As humiliating as it was, I usually wept when I was angry, and my eyes burned as they welled up.

Now that she was gone, my eyes were going into overdrive. I barely saw through them as I shoved books and pens into my bag, hoping I didn't miss and spill my pens all over the floor as I did so.

A male voice from behind me startled me. "Are you Anna Winters?"

Not turning around, as I could feel my eyes watering, I just nodded and gave him an awkward 'thumbs up' gesture so I didn't have to turn and face him. Hiding like a coward behind my red curtain.

"I'm Mike," He started to say, and I felt horror tug at my stomach when his footsteps approached me. Oh God, this was horrible, and I found myself speechless for fear of my voice sounding watery.

Unfortunately, he noticed without my needing to wobble out any words. "Woah, are you okay?"

Great, now I had to talk. "Yeah, I'm fine."

My words were a lie, and maybe he sensed it. "You sure?"

Looking up, Mike was a classically handsome boy with pale blond hair, and he was smiling at me with such gentle eyes. It was such a stark contrast from the hatred in Elsa's face that it reassured me. He clearly didn't think I smelled bad, or that I was annoying.

Wiping under my eyes, which thankfully started to dry out from the encouragement, I nodded to him. "I'm fine," I reassured before outstretching my hand. "Anna."

His shoulders relaxed, and he smiled at me in a friendly way. "Do you need any help finding your next class?"

So many helpful students here, it almost made my head spin. "I'm headed to gym, I think I can find the big building okay," I said with an awkward laugh.

He seemed thrilled at this, and his smile turned into a full-blown grin. "That's my next class, too," he said as though it was a huge coincidence to be in the same class in a school this small.

Walking out of the classroom together, I realized too late that Mike was a chatterbox. On the plus side of things, he supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me to nod along. He'd lived in California since he was ten, so he knew how I felt about the sun. He was also in my English class earlier, and he was the nicest and most easy going person I'd met today.

As we were about to enter the Gym; though, he asked: "So...did you, like, stab Elsa Cullen with a pencil or something?"

My eyes widened, a knot formed in my throat when her name hit my ears.

His eyes filled with curiosity. "I've never seen her act like that."

My mouth tugged into a cringe, downcast that I wasn't the only person that noticed our exchanges. Torn between admitting to having been staring at her, or playing dumb, I went with the latter.

"Is that the girl who sat next to me in Biology?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "She looked like she was in pain or something."

I could tell he was trying to ask why I had been tearing up, and going about it in a roundabout way, but I pretended not to notice. "I don't know why she would be, we've never said a word to each other."

Mike shook his head, shrugging it off with a sort of dopey look on his face. "She's a weird girl," he said, with what looked like a subtle tilt of resentment buried in the corner of his mouth. "If I was lucky enough to have sat by you, I'd have talked to you."

As other students were heading for the locker rooms, Mike stayed beside me, and it was starting to make the other students stare at us. Unnerved by the eyes on me, I could only afford to send Mike a smile before I walked through the door to the girl's locker room. Clearly he was friendly, and that was really nice; but, once he was gone the anger returned to me. Irritation boiled under my skin – she had been acting weird.

So she -did- have a problem with me. What the hell was it?

Approaching Coach Clapp with my stupid slip, he signed it and found me a uniform to wear, all while I continued to brood over Biology. Why did her hatred bother me? I'd been disliked before and I got over it easily enough. The question never left my head, even as I found myself in my own personal hell.

Gym was not a class for the uncoordinated, and I had hoped my time in Gym was over. In Phoenix, the requirement was just two years of Gym. Here, you had to take it all four years. Nausea filled me, even though I didn't have to dress down in front of the other girls today. Courtesy of being able to go home and wash my gym clothes.

Whether it was the anger I felt, or watching four volleyball games running simultaneously, my good luck seemed to have waned. The last time I played volleyball, I sustained bruises and injures and caused pain to the students next to me. What friends I was making, including Mike who waved at me from time to time, were doomed as soon as I was asked to play sports.

The final bell finally rang, and I walked hurriedly to the office to return my slip and other paperwork to the office secretary. While the rain had drifted away, the wind was strong and cold. Wrapping my arms around myself did very little to keep the chill from shivering through me.

Eager to walk into the warm and toasty office, my relief vanished and I almost walked right back out into the wind.

Elsa Cullen stood at the desk in front of me. I recognized her by that tousled blonde hair and poised body posture. She didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance, but even so I moved to stand pressed as far into the back wall as I could. All I needed to do was pass the time until the receptionist was free and pray that she didn't notice I was here and glare at me again.

Leaning against the wall, I could hear Elsa arguing with the secretary in her soft, alto, voice.

"Surely there must be another class I can take, or switch out," She asked in exasperation.

The redheaded secretary sighed as she went over the schedule. "I'm very sorry, Ms. Cullen, but I can't swap out Biology in sixth period for third period, Mrs. Russet only teaches Advanced English in third period, you would have to drop out of your gifted class," she explained with as comforting a tone as possible.

"What about...switching to home schooled classes?"

I stared at the back of Elsa's head; flabbergasted. This couldn't be about me – why would it? I didn't do anything to her! My brain couldn't wrap about the idea that someone could have a reason to harbor such a sudden, intense, dislike for me.

"That is something to discuss with your parents, Ms. Cullen, but we don't offer a homeschool program."

The Secretary furrowed her brows as Elsa's hands bunched into fists again. For a moment, I thought she would punch a hole in the counter.

The door opened, cold wind snapped into the room in the form of a violent chilling gust that made me shrink deeper into my wrapped arms. The girl who came in merely stepped up to the desk, set a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But, it was enough of a distraction for Elsa to turn her head to look at the girl who was walking toward the door.

In the process, her black eyes found me, and we both visibly stiffened. Her, from disgust. Myself, from fear.

Her face was so striking that I couldn't tear my eyes away from them. If not for her piercing – hate filled – eyes, the urge to keep staring into them might have made it impossible for me to look away from her face. The hair on my arms rise when the fear hit me, and even though she looked at me for only a few seconds, it chilled me more than the freezing wind.

Elsa turned back toward the receptionist. "I see, I shall just have to endure it…" She said hastily, her voice flowing from her lips like liquid velvet. "Good day."

She turned on her heel, without another look at me, and disappeared out the front door with the same ghostly grace she had used to escape me earlier.

Stepping meekly toward the desk, my face starch white and cold instead of red, the slip was tugged from my pocket and set down on the counter.

The secretary seemed to be genuinely happy to see me. "How did your first day go, dear?"

"Fine," I lied, surprised by how weak my voice was. She did not look convinced, but had the wisened experience not to inquire further.

For her, the paperwork was turned in and sorted into the computer by hand and life went on. For me, I felt numb and detached. Lost for how someone could hate me so much. By the time I made it back to my truck, it was one of the last ones in the lot.

My feet couldn't walk fast enough to make it back to the haven my truck had become. Once inside, I locked the doors out of sheer habit, and sank defeatedly into the long bench-like seat. Curled up into a ball from the events of the long day reoccurring over and over in my head.

Why did I care if she liked me, why did it hurt that she hated me so much? Not understanding what overwhelmed me so, when my truck felt too cold to remain inside without the heater on, I sat up and turned the key.

Engine roaring to life, I didn't play the radio again. I didn't want to listen to anything that could cheer me up; my heart throbbed like it had been bludgeoned, and I fought tears the entire way back to David's house.


	2. open book

The next day the clouds were dense and opaque, but the lack of rain barely cheered me. It felt easier to go to school knowing what to expect, at least. Mike took a shine to me as soon as I walked into English class – talking to me incessantly, walking me to my next class, with Chess Club Eric glaring at him the entire time.

It was obvious to me that, for some reason, both Eric and Mike had some kind of crush on me. Why, I had no idea, but it made me feel like a shiny new toy. Sometimes I saw a few girls watching me with narrowed eyes, but it could have been my imagination. Surely Mike had other friends to talk to, right?

It was a relief that people didn't look at me quite so wide-eyed as they had yesterday. Things even went rather smoothly, at least until lunch.

When the bell for lunch rang, it knotted a large hole in my stomach. Elsa would probably be in the cafeteria, and the idea of seeing that pure burn of hatred rattled me to my core. Mike, Eric, Jessica, and several other people whose names and faces I vaguely remembered helped me feel more safe and hidden. Just another face in the crowd.

All morning I had dreaded lunch, fearing her bizarre glares, and Elsa Cullen wasn't there. A part of me wanted to confront her, and demand to know what her problem us. Lying restless in bed last night, I had thought of a thousand different things I could say as I stared up at the ceiling. Even decided that if I had to, I would write a note and pass it to her in Biology whether she wanted to read it or not.

Elsa wasn't in the cafeteria, and despite barely eating and expecting her to breeze through the door, she didn't. The four siblings were sitting together at the same table though, not eating, looking out the window, or reading some kind of book, talking amongst each other. Elsa didn't show, and it bothered me. Bothered me too much – half my lunch was left untouched.

Mike had led us to his favorite table, near the one from yesterday, which hid me better from where Elsa could have seen me at the old one. Jessica seemed to glow like a star by the attention, and it was altogether too obvious that Jessica really liked Mike. Mike, Jessica, and her friends were all chatting a mile a minute, but I could barely focus on what any of them said.

Elsa wasn't here, which meant she probably wasn't going to be in Biology either. I hoped that she would show up, because if she just ignored me than it meant I wasn't the reason she was so repulsed and aggravated. I thought I could feel Mike watching me, trying to look where I was glancing toward, but I pretended not to notice.

Far too tense by the time lunch ended, Mike walked with me to Biology like I was a tennis ball and he was a golden retriever. He tried to talk about books or movies I liked, but the subject held no interest to me. Feeling safe, that she might not be in class today, confidence and fear filled me as I stopped by the door and looked into our Biology classroom.

Elsa wasn't there, and for some reason anger filled me. She had to be a coward, if she was ditching school because of me. It was harder to deny that the reason was me, and I felt my hand knot up into a ball before I walked to my seat. Staring absentmindedly at the empty chair next to me as if I expected the girl to just magically appear when I turned my head for a moment. I knew it was ridiculous, even egotistical, to think that -I- was important enough to bother someone I had never met before that badly.

When the school day was over, and the horror of accidentally bopping a Volleyball into another student's head faded the flush of embarrassment from my face, I was relieved to make it back to my truck. Relieved still further because I had successfully managed to get out of the girl's locker room before Mike had a chance to find me and swoop me in with conversation and attention.

Digging through my backpack once I was safely in my truck, my home away from home, my hands filed through the zipper compartments to make sure I had everything I needed. To my horror, I realized that David didn't cook very many things besides eggs and bacon. Or wouldn't cook anything otherwise, if he could cook anything else.

If I was going to survive Forks, I'd need to do the cooking, and he consented to my request to be put on kitchen detail. One distraction from the disappointing school day to ease my mind. Even though I wasn't someone who ate very much, cooking was soothing to me. Since I was old enough to cook without burning things, I'd done the cooking for my mom, and not having anyone to cook for made me feel anxious.

As soon as my hand found the grocery store list and some I'd folded into it nestled into a hidden pocket, relief washed over my face.

Gunning the Beast's deafening engine to life, ignoring the many heads that turned to look at my truck's roar of life, I backed as carefully as I could into the line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot. While I waited, trying to pretend that the ear-splitting rumbled growl was coming from someone else's car, I saw the two Cullens and the Hale twins getting into their own car.

Of course it was a shiny new Volvo, the fanciest car I'd seen in the lot. Too mesmerized by their faces thus far, I realized that everything they owned or wore was expensive-looking or exceptional in some way. To be honest, with their remarkably good looks, the style to which they carried themselves, they could have worn a t-shirt made of dish rags and still pulled it off. For some reason it seemed too excessive to me for them to have looks -and- money. Resentment filled me, maybe because I knew that Elsa had that life of luxury as well.

Not that it mattered, it didn't look as though their finery or good looks bought them any acceptance here. If that was even what they wanted, I couldn't see a good reason why they would not be well liked if they wanted to be. The four of them turned their head when my truck came toting by their car, and I sharply moved my eyes to not be swamped in embarrassment.

Unable to resist, I peeked, and the short-haired fairy with inky black hair was watching me.

Keeping my eyes forward then, to not meet any of their direct gazes and piss them off like I had Elsa, relief flooded through me when I could finally escape the parking lot.

The 'Thriftway' grocery store was not very far from school, just a few streets south, off the freeway. It felt safe, cozy, to be inside a supermarket again; it felt so blissfully normal. Since I did all the shopping back at home, it was easy to fall into the same pattern of completing familiar tasks. The store was large enough inside that I couldn't hear the tapping of the rain on the roof to remind me I was still in Forks.

Sometimes I felt like someone was watching me, though, and while that was disconcerting I never actually saw anyone doing it to have a reason to be concerned.

When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries. Stuffing items wherever I could find an open space, with slightly more organization than the mess my father had left it. When most of the groceries were put away, I washed my hands and wrapped potatoes in tin foil, sticking the into the oven to bake. Covering a steak in marinade, I balanced that on top of a carton of eggs in the fridge to soak for a while.

Only when that relaxing project was finished did I take my book-bag upstairs. There was homework I had to focus on; but, first I needed to write an email to my mom. The whole situation yesterday had made me forget to do it, and I knew she'd probably have sent a bunch of emails from worry at my lack of quick responses.

Pulling my hair into a ponytail, I clicked open my email to find three messages.

"Anna," my mom wrote…

Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was. Is it raining? I miss you already. I'm almost finished packing for Florida; but, I can't find my pink blouse. Do you know where I put it? Phil says hi. - Mom'.

The next email was sent eight hours after the first one. I sighed, they were all named 'Anna' as a subject and I knew she was overreacting before I even opened the other messages.

"Anna," she wrote…

If I haven't heard back from you by 5:30 I'm calling David."

Glancing at the clock, I knew I still had an hour; but, my mom was known for jumping the gun, so I clicked on 'reply' and started typing back to her.

"Mom," I began to write.

Calm down, I just got home from school. Don't do anything silly. - Anna."

Clicking 'Send', I typed 'reply' a second time to give a reply to all the details she had asked for in her first email.

"Mom,

Everything is going great. When -isnt- it raining? I was waiting to reply til I had something to talk about. School isn't bad, just repetitive. They're a year behind me in Biology so I'm pretending to learn. I met some nice kids who sit by me at lunch. Your blouse is at the dry cleaners – you were supposed to pick it up last Friday.

David bought me a truck, can you believe that? I actually love it, though it's super old and loud and all the kids stare at me. Study and safe though, so don't worry about me. I miss you, too. I'll write you again soon, but don't expect me to check my email every five minutes either. Relax. Breathe. I love you."

Changing into loose pants and a more comfortable t-shirt, Wuthering Heights – a required reading book from my English Class – was tugged out of my book bag. Honestly, it wasn't the first time I had read it. I'd read it before for sheer enjoyment, so it was nice to have a reason to read it over a second time.

Which was what I was doing when David came home. I'd lost track of time, and based on the smell filtering upstairs, I almost burned the potatoes…

"Anna?" My father called out when he heard me thump downstairs.

"Hey, Dad," my reply was short, I barely saw him hang up his gun belt and step out of his boots as I bustled into the kitchen. When I came here to visit as a child, he would always remove the bullets from his gun as soon as he walked in the door, and I imagined he would do so now.

Moving the steak into the broiler and taking the potatoes out before they were charred beyond repair. The smell was worse than it was, and the potatoes seemed to be okay once I used silverware to unwrap them from foil.

"What's for dinner?" he asked warily, and it made me feel a bit self-conscious to be put on the spot with burnt smell in the air.

"Steak and potatoes," my reply seemed to set him at ease, and I couldn't help but wonder if he had been worried my taste in food took after mom. She was always trying to cook exotic dishes creatively fashioned, that looked far better than they tasted. Sometimes we made even made orange curry together; but, these were things my dad didn't like. Which, if I was honest with myself, was one of the perks of being here.

"Do you need any help?" He asked tentatively, looking a bit awkward just standing there doing nothing.

"Uh, sure, Dad. Can you warm some butter from the fridge?"

He moved on autopilot to open the fridge door and blink at how full the fridge was. Not knowing where the butter was anymore, he glanced around for almost three minutes. Comical as it might be, mercy demanded I scoot past him to open the little butter drawer in the door and point at the box of butter sticks.

He took one of the sticks out of the box and went to find a plate, and I took that time to grab the bag of pre-made, pre-washed, salad and toss it into two soup-bowls.

Dad moved behind me in the kitchen, the microwave closed, and buttons were pressed. After that, I think Charlie realized there was nothing for him to do, and he sauntered off to the living room to go watch TV while I finished up.

The silence was relaxing, it never felt awkward when we both had things to do, only when the pressure of talking lingered in the room.

When dinner was ready, David turned off the television and walked back into the kitchen.

"Smells good, Anna."

With an awkward smile, I went to sit and we ate in silence for a few minutes. Neither of us were bothered by the quiet, and I guess in some ways we were well suited for living together.

What I didn't expect was for David to talk, so when he did, my mouth curled into a grimace.

"So, how do you like the high school? Have you made any friends?"

"Everybody seems pretty nice," I replied, but as he kept looking at me I fished for more details. "I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica, um...there's this guy named Mike who'se super friendly."

"Ah, that sounds like Mike Newton?" I nodded, and he continued. "His dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town. They make good money living off of all the backpackers who come through here."

When I didn't say anything, just kept eating, he continued on. "He's a nice boy – nice family," he paused, and I could feel him watching me. "Do you 'like' Mike Newton?"

My appetite died, was he really asking me about boys? "He's nice, been a good friend to me."

I could tell David wanted to ask more; but, he didn't know how to formulate the words...so I spoke before he did, and tried to change the subject quickly.

"Um, do you know the Cullens? The Cullen family?" My voice rang out so hesitantly I felt like I floated above my body.

"Dr. Cullen's family? Sure, I know them," he said between bites of potatoes. "Why do you ask?"

"I...noticed the Cullens are a little...different. They don't seem to fit in very well."

My father surprised me, his face was reddened, and he sliced his slate with more gusto than it needed.

"It's a bit strange for a couple to adopt older teens, much less five of them, but they're all very mature and polite. I admit, I had my doubts when their family moved in, but they've never caused any trouble. Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon, who could probably make ten times the salary he gets here. We're lucky his wife wanted to live in a small town, they're an asset to the community. It's perfectly fine to be a...little peculiar," David paused, to take another bite of potatoes.

I fumbled my fork through what was left of my food, surprised by the long speech my father had made. It was probably even the longest speech he'd ever made about something that I could remember hearing, and that in itself unsettled me. Clearly he felt strongly about the Cullens, and clearly he must be used to people saying negative things about them.

"I just noticed they tend to keep to themselves at school...and they're all very attractive."

David laughed, heartily. "You should see their parents. It's a good thing they're happily married. I hear a lot of the nurses have trouble concentrating on their work when Dr. Cullen is on duty."

Whatever I had planned on asking about escaped me, so I just smiled as the small-talk faded back into silence. After we both did the dishes, by hand as we didn't have a dishwasher, I went upstairs to work on my math homework.

I could feel a tradition in the making, and it felt nice to have some semblance of normalcy back.

With no rain that night, I fell asleep almost instantly once I hit the bed.

The rest of the week helped me settle into the routine of my classes, and by Friday I was able to recognize – if not by name – almost all the students at school. In Gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass me the ball, and to step in front of me if the other team tried to take advantage of my lack of hand-eye coordination. Rather than make me feel unwanted, it relieved me.

Every day, I anxiously watched until the rest of the Cullens entered the cafeteria, and every day – Elsa wasn't there.

Where did she go? Did she transfer to being home schooled? Was I really such a big problem for her? These questions haunted me, even after I ate. Maybe it was for the best she wasn't here, and I should really just stop wondering about her.

So by Friday, I was perfectly comfortable entering Biology class, no longer worried that Elsa would be there. She wasn't, and it was nice having the two-person lab desk to myself. But I couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that she would be here if I wasn't...so repulsive to her.

My days were blending together, and here I was – still worrying about Elsa Cullen.

My first weekend in Forks passed by without any incidents. David wasn't used to spending time in an empty house, so he worked on the weekends. With the house to myself, I got ahead on my homework, wrote ridiculously cheerful emails to my mom, and even felt like doing some cleaning around the place. I did drive to the local library on Saturday; but, it was so poorly stocked that I left with an empty bag. Maybe Olympia or Seattle would have a good bookstore, I mused, but then I thought of how much gas The Beast would need to drive that sort of distance, and I cringed to myself.

Best of all, the rain stayed soft over the weekend. A quiet hum that soothed me to sleep, and I felt like I was finally able to sleep well here.

People greeted me in the parking lot when I arrived on Monday morning. I didn't know all their names; but, I waved back and smiled at everyone. It was colder than usual this morning, but happily not raining. In English, Mike took his accustomed seat by my side. We had a pop quiz on Wuthering Heights that was very straightforward to me. Easy. Mike may or may not have had some help from looking at my notes.

All in all, I was feeling more comfortable than I thought I would feel after a week in Forks. More cozy than I had ever expected to feel here.

Walking out of English, I froze. The air was swirling with bits of white, and I could hear other students shouting excitedly to each other.

"Wow," Mike said. "It's snowing early this year."

The wind bit at my cheeks; my nose, and I held my bag close as I shivered against it. The snow looked like little balls of cotton fluffs that were steadily building along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past my face. White fluffy dust that bit.

Grimacing, as each snowflake melted against my face with tingling stings, the word came out of me before I put any thought into it. "Ugh."

Mike looked at me with surprise. "You don't like snow?"

Blinking at him, as if it was a silly question, I just sighed and shook my head. "No."

Mike tilted his head like a dog, walking faster to catch up with me, trying to out-walk the snow. "Why not?"

He was too curious for his own good. "Snow is just a colder, wetter, version of rain. Rain soaks you through enough, and snow just bunches on you, then melts and you're even more frozen," once the tyraidstarted, I couldn't stop myself. "Besides – I thought snow was supposed to come down in pretty flakes, you know? Each one unique and all that, and these just look like the ends of Q-tips."

"Haven't you ever seen snow fall before?" Mike asked incredulously.

"Yeah, sure I have..." I paused. "On TV."

The snort that came out of Mike's nose had a sweet charm to it, and I might have forgiven his love of this stupid white stuff – if not for a big squishy ball of fresh snow smacking into the back of his head!

Turning to see who threw the ball of white at Mike, Eric was walking away with his back toward us – in the wrong direction for his next class. I'd had my suspicions that Eric and Mike were competing for my attention, but whether that was true or not, they weren't getting along very well and it was obvious he was the one who threw the snowball.

"Oh, you're getting it nerd," Mike said as he bent down to scoop up the white mush into a ball, and I knew that was my time to flee.

"Um, I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I said, already walking away from the snow battle.

Mike nodded, his eyes on Eric's retreating figure. Watching Mike walk fast after him, I walked almost the same rushed pace to get away from the snow before someone else had any fun ideas.

All morning – everyone chattered excitedly about the snow. The first snowfall of the new year was clearly a big deal in these parts. Not wanting to bring down the mood, I said nothing. Sure, snow was 'dryer' until it melted into your socks.

Walking behind Jessica to the cafeteria after Spanish class, my eyes were as alert as an owl. Mush balls were flying everywhere – and I had no skill or talent to stop them if someone decided to throw one at me. Jessica didn't seem to realize I was using her as a human shield until we were half-way to the cafeteria, and when she did she giggled.

"You know snow isn't toxic, right?" She teased, and I was just grateful she didn't torture me with picking up a snowball ant throwing it at me herself.

Pursing my mouth into a grimace, we walked into the cafeteria – the safe zone – and I relaxed. Mike immediately caught up to us as we walked in, laughing with ice melting in his blond hair.

While he and Jessica were talking animatedly about the snow fights, I slipped ahead of them in the lunch line to buy food. Out of sheer habit, my eyes darted to the Cullen table, and I froze where I stood.

There were five people at the table.

Jessica and Mike bumped right into me, and she pulled on my arm.

"Ah! Don't stop!" Jessica said with a laugh. "Silly goose!"

Mike tried to look at what had stopped me, and whether he realized I was watching the Cullen table or not, I hastily looked away before he could comment on it.

"Sorry – I thought I saw a snowball..." Humor wasn't my best feature, but that didnt' stop Jessica and Mike from giggling.

Moving to let Jessica and Mike order food first, my eyes were on the floor. My ears were so hot I could feel my face burning down to my toes. What reason did I have to feel so self-conscious anyway! So what if Elsa was here! I hadn't done a thing wrong!

"Um, Anna, what do you want?" Jessica asked, and I could only presume I'd been spaced out long enough for people in line to get antsy and glare at me.

"Oh, um, I'm actually not hungry," I said as I started to ease out of the line. My stomach churned, and Mike called out to me as I walked away.

"Hey – are you okay?"

Oh please don't bring extra attention to me…

"I just feel a little sick, I'll get a soda or something," I tried to reassure Mike, and I could tell I hadn't convinced him not to worry as he turned back to the server in the cafeteria.

Rushing away from the line, the last thing I heard was Mike talking to Jessica. "What's with Anna?"

Rushing to the Vending machine, which charged a lot more than a soda was worth, I dug out a few bills from my purse and shoved them into the machine. Which didn't take my money, they had been too bruised from an accidental trip through the wash.

My stomach truly felt unsettled, and a part of me wondered if it was a good idea to play it up and go to the nurses office for the next hour. Which was ridiculous! Why did -I- have to cower away like a mouse? I shouldn't have to, I didn't do anything wrong!

Poking my nose around the corner, I decided to permit myself just one glance at the Cullen's family table. If Elsa was glaring at me, I would skip Biology – like the coward I was. Peering at them behind my lashes, one of them was missing. But only the guy with blond hair – Jasper – was looking in my direction. Not at – me – but something nearby.

Rosalie, Elsa, and Emmett were smiling at each other, Rosalie leaning away toward her brother Jasper as Emmett shook his head like a dog to get snow all over her. They seemed to be enjoying the snowy day, like everyone else – though more like a scene from a hallmark movie than like the rest of the kids here. Elsa looked happy, she could care less about me.

Jasper squinted away from getting snow on him and held up his hands like a shield; but, his eyes were still looking my way.

Before I could formulate why, the answer tapped my shoulder.

"Hello," the voice sounded like tiny bells, and I turned around to see the black-haired pixie Cullen looking at me.

Words escaped me, and if it were possible I'd have been paler than she was from shock. Why was she talking to me?

"Uh, hi," I finally spit out, because she just kept smiling at me and dancing on the balls of her feet like she was waiting for me to say something back.

"I'm Alice," she said warmly, too warmly.

I cleared my throat. "H-hey Alice," I said, pretending I didn't already know her name by heart now.

She just giggled, a sound like fairy dust escaping her lips as she reached into her ridiculously fancy-looking purse and took out a five dollar bill. One that looked like it has never seen the light of day before, from how smooth and crisp the paper was.

"Here, these machines can be so picky," Alice said, and I cautiously reached to take her crisp bill and hand her my ratty excuse for a bill back.

"Oh, thanks," I mumbled, feeling more eyes on me, and in fear I couldn't bear to turn around to see if Alice's siblings were looking at me. Why was she being so nice to me?

Alice waved away the money, either from wanting to do a nice thing, or not wanting to touch battered ugly bills, I couldn't tell. "Pfft, don't worry about it, welcome to Forks."

"Thank you..." I squeaked.

Alice seemed to glow as though she thought I was a cute beanie baby she wanted to scoop up at the toy store. Her grin was electric, and I found myself really enjoying her company.

"My Dad won't stop talking about how happy Chief Winters is since you came here," Alice said, and it caught me off guard to think of my dad being that happy. Did he really talk about me to people? It cheered me, and I almost forgot about my nausea.

"Oh?" I muttered, like a doofus.

Alice giggled like soft bells again. "Have a good day, Anna."

Just like that, the dancing fairy princess with short black hair was gone, hopping over to the Cullen table again with some kind of can in her hand. Was Elsa watching me, now? My eyes turned to peek through the veil of my red hair, and to my relief Elsa was playfully batting her bulky weight-lifting brother for trying to shake more snow on her.

Jasper was watching Alice, and his eyes seemed to only see her as she swam through the room to sit next to him. When Alice saw me looking at them, she waved, and then all the Cullens looked my way!

Darting behind the wall, hiding behind the vending machine, I couldn't bring myself to use the pristine five dollar bill on a soda. It was weird, like the bill was some kind of souvenir. Sliding it into my pocket, like I'd been given something precious from a celebrity, when I was sure that the Cullens weren't watching me anymore, I whisked myself to the lunch table where Mike and Jessica were watching me with wide eyes.

"Hey, are you okay?" Jessica asked me, and I looked at the Cullen table as I sat down. Elsa was gone, and for some reason that filled me with panic until I saw her outside, walking away from the cafeteria through the snow. Was she upset? Was she mad Alice had talked to me?

"Anna?" Mike added, when I didn't say anything for a long moment.

"Oh, yeah, sorry – I just needed a few minutes."

Jessica relaxed, but her face was more suspicious than Mike's trusting smile. Mike slid a tray in front of me, a full tray of chicken nuggets and broccoli. "You should eat something."

Staring down at the food, I looked up at Mike nervously, because I thought Jessica looked...jealous. "Oh, thanks, you didn't have to..."

My eyes slipped away from Jessica and Mike to look at the Cullen's table; but, they were all filtering out into the snow with smiles on their faces. Except for Jasper, who looked like he was in pain.

"Anna, what are you staring at?" Jessica asked, and I realized she was trying to follow what I was looking at. Should I tell her about the Elsa thing? I didn't think she would understand, and the last thing I wanted was more gossip about me to make people stare at me more.

"The snow," I lied, and Jessica just started giggling. Losing all interest in her food as she playfully slapped Mike's shoulder.

"See, I told you!" Jessica said animatedly, and I laughed weakly.

Mike snorted and cracked his fingers. "Well, don't you ladies worry about the snow, I'll protect you."

Jessica and Angela seemed to think that was even more hilarious, and they laughed heartily while I ate a chicken nugget or two to show I was grateful. Mike might really like me, or he might just be a really kind guy, it was hard to tell – even if my gut seemed to know which one was the case. Not eating the chicken nuggets after he bought it for me would be rude, so I tried not to think about Alice's unexpected friendliness as I ate.

They spoke for a while of the Snow, and that maybe they should post-pone their trip to La Push Ocean Park, but I wasn't really listening. Elsa had looked happy with her family. The dark bruise-like circles under her eyes had been less prominent, and her pale skin seemed to be flushed – from a snow fight maybe. There was something else that seemed different; but, I couldn't place what it was.

"Psst, Anna," Angela finally interrupted my thoughts, and I looked up from mostly eaten food to look at her. Angela adjusted her glasses as she leaned in closer to whisper to me. She wasn't watching me, she was watching something in the distance. "I think Elsa Cullen is staring at you."

Eyes widening in panic, I looked where Angela was pointing, and sure enough Elsa was standing on the outside of the window next to Alice. When our eyes met, she seemed to bristle with concern, and Alice pinched her arm with what looked like a bubbling laugh at her sister's expense.

Jessica, hearing Angela, looked at the window too. Which meant Mike and the whole table looked at the window, and I sank down in humiliation and covered my face with my hands. God, now Elsa knew I was looking at her.

When the other kids didn't stop looking at Elsa and Alice, I tried to lightly shake Angela's arm. "Guys, can you please stop looking at her."

Jessica chuckled first. "Why? She's not looking at us anymore."

Too afraid to look up, fearing that meant she was just looking at me, I muttered with all the bravery of a field mouse. "Does she look mad?"

Angela furrowed her brow. "Should she be?"

All eyes were on me now, and I hated it. All appetite I had gained vanished and I gently pushed away my tray. "I just, don't think she likes me."

Sinking down to put my head on my arm, the queasiness was back and Jessica shrugged. "I don't think the Cullens like anybody."

Peeking through my hair at the window, Alice and Elsa were away from the window, like Alice was teasing her tomboyish sister. She kept trying to pinch Elsa and nod her head toward the Cafeteria. Was she trying to get Elsa to talk to me? Elsa's back was to me, so I didn't see what she looked like, but her shoulders seemed kind of tense.

Not wanting to be staring if Elsa looked back around, I hastily looked back at Mike when he started to change the subject. "It's their loss, cause we're awesome."

Jessica and Angela seemed to snort at the same time, but that didn't deter Mike. "Which reminds me – after school we're having an epic battle of the blizzard! Who'se in? I have a few more snowballs for the nerds, at least."

Angela rolled her eyes. "I resent that, Mike," she said as she adjusted her reading glasses.

Jessica looked at Mike with such eagerness and glee that I felt like she'd be up for anything Mike suggested. Staying silent, as I really didn't want to be anywhere near snowballs, I vowed to hide in the gym until the parking lot was cleared of snowy warfare.

For the rest of the lunch hour, I carefully kept my eyes on my own table. Deciding to honor the bargain I'd made with myself – even if the idea made me queasy. Elsa didn't look angry, so I would go ahead to Biology as planned. My stomach did little frightened flips at the thought of sitting next to her again; but, I was not going to be a coward if there wasn't a good reason to be.

Mike tried to segway me into the conversation several times, but I kept dodging any opinion on snow and snow fights. Not really talkative, when the bell rang I walked with Mike in silence, and he playfully tried to poke my shoulder because of how anti-social I was. But, we didn't have much of a chance to talk anyway – as he seemed to be the most popular target of snowballs. He was constantly dodging and throwing snowballs at other students, and I found myself walking further and further away from him to avoid snowballs.

We were almost at the door for Biology when I realized it had begun to rain. The rain beginning to wash away the traces of snow on the ground – with relief, as now I didn't have to hide in the gym and could drive straight home after school.

Everyone else groaned, but I felt myself smile at the loss of snow. Rain was better than snow, even if it was by a tiny margin. Ignoring Mike's string of complaints as we entered the class, to my relief my table was empty.

Mr. Banner was walking around the room, distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table. Class wouldn't start for a few minutes; but, the room was abuzz with conversation. Keeping my eyes away from the door, to not be caught waiting for Elsa to come in by the woman herself, I feigned interest in doodling on a blank page in my notebook.

My entire body seemed to freeze when I heard the chair next to me move, but I struggled to pretend to re-shade a flower petal instead of turn my head to look at Elsa. In fear that she would be glaring at me.

"Hello," said a quiet, musical, voice beside me. Was Elsa talking to me? My chest felt suddenly out of breath.

She spoke again when I didn't answer her. "What are you drawing?"

Raising my eyes cautiously from my notebook, Elsa's eyes were taking me in with a cautious curiosity. Her chair was as far away from mine as it could possibly be; but, angled toward me as if to give me her full attention. Her blond hair looked to be dripping wet, disheveled – and even so, it looked like she just finished shooting a commercial for shampoo. Her dazzling face was friendly, open, with a slight smile on her flawless mouth. However, her eyes were concerned.

My mouth didn't move, I was too stunned that Elsa wanted to talk to me, that I didn't know what to say until my brain could process that she -did- in fact -want- to talk to me. Not hiss at me.

Elsa seemed to realize how stunned I was, so she kept talking softly to me. "My name is Elsa Cullen," she continued in her velvet voice. "I...didn't have the chance to introduce myself last week. I have heard you prefer to be called, Anna?"

My mind was spinning with confusion – had I made up the whole hissing fit last week? She was so perfectly polite right now. I had to speak; she was waiting – but I couldn't think of something to say for the life of me.

"H-How did you know that?" I stammered.

She laughed, a soft enchanting laugh that made my feet feel weak and strange.

"At this point, I think the whole town knows you by now even before you got here."

My mouth curled into a wary grimace, of course I was the center of gossip in this small town, what a stupid question!

Unable to fathom anything to recover myself from how much of a dork I had become, Mr. Banner saved me by starting the class. Trying desperately to concentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today, I scooted into the desk and turned my notebook to an empty page to sprawl out notes. Working as lab partners, we would have to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented, and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to use our books, and in twenty minutes he would be coming around to see who had it right.

"The winning team of this assignment," Mr. Banner held up something that looked like a weird trophy. "Gets this year's Golden Onion."

My face sank – because Mr. Banner looked so happy and excited about his brilliance in trophy choices. Why would he think a bunch of kids would want a golden onion anyway? Who wanted to explain that trophy to people? The other students seemed excited about it, which made me wonder if Elsa was excited about it; but, she didn't look any different.

She was still staring at me, chair angled my direction. My stomach lurched and I hastily looked away.

"Get started," Mr. Banner commanded.

"Would you care to go first?" Elsa asked, and I peeked at her to see a strangely unnerving crooked smile on her face. It was so beautiful that I could only stare at her like an idiot. "Or I could start? If you wish?"

Elsa's smile faded, as though she was wondering if I was mentally challenged.

"N-No," I began; feeling everywhere inside me flushing or boiling. "I'll go ahead." Maybe I was desperate to prove to Elsa that I wasn't stupid, and as I had done this class before, this was a way I could show off just a little bit. It should be easy! I'd done this before. Snapping the first slide into place under the microscope, I adjusted it quickly to the 40x objective zoom and peeked through the microscope to study the sample.

My assessment was confident. "Prophase."

"Do you mind if I review your findings, scientist?" Elsa teased, and I felt my stomach lurch again as she reached over toward me to turn the microscope her way. She had to lean forward to look through the microscope, and her wet hair fell down in a waterfall of blonde hair cascading over her face.

Unfortunately, we had both been reaching for the microscope, as I had wanted to turn it for her to not be rude. So my hand touched her perfect fingers. Her hand was ice cold, like she'd been holding onto a dry ice-cube before class started. But that wasn't why I jerked my hand away from hers so quickly.

When I touched her hand, it stung, as if electric current had passed between us and shocked me.

"Forgive me," Elsa muttered, pulling her hand behind her back immediately. However, she turned to keep looking through the microscope, and after a short moment she pulled back.

"Prophase," she agreed with another of those crooked smiles at me. She wrote with such perfect penmanship on our worksheet that I felt the desire to never write again so I could keep seeing her beautiful script. Saying nothing, like an idiot, Elsa swapped the first slide for the second one and gazed at it curiously.

"Anaphase," she murmured softly, writing it down as she spoke, and I found myself needing to impress her and win this competition.

"May I double check?"

Elsa smirked at me, and when I didn't reach forward to turn the microscope, she gently turned it for me and moved her hands away from it entirely. It seemed we were both being extra careful not to touch again.

"Of course," she hummed, and I leaned forward cautiously to peruse the slide with the most fleeting look I could manage before I leaned back again.

Disappointment filled me, she was right. "Anaphase."

"Like I said," she teased, and I both couldn't look at her in the eye, and couldn't look away.

"Slide three?" The words fell from me with slightly more ease than before; but, it was still very hard to speak around this woman who was so much more beautiful than myself. Elsa slid the third slide to me, and I hastily slipped it into the microscope.

Why did I want to touch her hand again? I knew it might shock again, but that wasn't the reason I carefully avoided touching her fingers as we peeked at the slides back and forth.

"Interphase," she muttered the last slide, and at this point I just wrote down whatever she said, and she wrote down whatever I said.

The sheet looked so sad, to me. My writing resembled chicken scratch in comparison to how gorgeous her writing was, and it haunted me how badly I wanted to hide my flaws from Elsa. Writing hadn't been a flaw for me before, but everything I could do seemed obsolete in comparison to Elsa.

We were finished long before anyone else was close. I could see Mike and his partner comparing two slides again and again, and another group had their book open underneath the table.

Which left me with no distractions, nothing to keep me from...staring at Elsa.

Unable to resist, my eyes rose to watch her face, and I found her staring back at me with avid curiosity. She had the same inexplicable look of frustration in her eyes, and all of a sudden I realized what was different about her face.

"Did you get contacts?" I blurted out unthinkingly, and she seemed puzzled at my unexpected question.

"No, why do you ask?"

My stomach did a flip flop as I tried to think of what to say that wasn't stupid. "Oh, I just...thought you had darker eyes..."

Elsa seemed annoyed, as she shrugged and looked away from me.

But the more I thought about it, the more I was sure that her eyes truly were different. I vividly remembered the black color of her eyes when she had glared at me last week. The color was so striking against the background of her pale skin and blonde hair. Today, her eyes were a completely different color – a strange ocher, darker than butterscotch; but, with the same golden tone. I didn't understand how one could even have gold eyes, unless she was lying for some reason about the contacts. Maybe Forks was making me crazy, but her eyes weren't black and I couldn't ignore it.

Glancing down, Elsa's hands were clenched into fists again, and worry filled me. Why had my question irritated her? Couldn't she just say she wore contacts? Was she afraid of not being seen as perfect, or something? Was I imagining things?

Mr. Banner came to our table, then, to see why we weren't working like the rest of the class. He glanced over our shoulders to peruse our completed lab, and then stared more intently to check our answers.

He gazed to Elsa with a shrewd sort of look. "Now, Elsa, don't you think that Anna should have been given a chance to look through the microscope?"

"yes," Elsa said on autopilot, and I felt a weird sort of gratitude for her as she looked back at me with soft eyes, then looked up at the teacher. "And, Anna identified three of the five slides, Mr. Banner."

As soft as her eyes were, Elsa's hands were still fists under the table, and I couldn't understand why. Mr. Banner was looking at me now, though, so I turned my face to look up at him.

His expression was skeptical. "Have you done this lab before?"

A sheepish smile flushed my face. "Not with onion root."

He raised an eyebrow. "Whitefish blastula?"

I nodded at him. "Yeah."

Mr. Banner nodded, and then chuckled quietly to himself. "I take it you were in an advanced placement program in Phoenix?"

Biting down on my lip, worried of being 'too smart' to Elsa, I avoided answering a moment. "Yeah."

"Well," Mr. Banner said after a pause. "I suppose it's good you two are lab partners, then." He murmured, mumbling something else as he walked away.

After he was gone, with no other distraction I could think of to keep from staring at Elsa's too perfect face, I opened my notebook to doodle again.

"It's too bad about the snow melting, isn't it?" Elsa asked, and I had a feeling she was trying to force herself to make small talk with me.

"Not really," I answered honestly, instead of pretending to be normal like everyone else. It was hard to concentrate on any kind of doodle with her eyes on me, so I stopped looking at the paper and set my pencil down.

"So, you don't like snow," she commented, a fact more-so than a question.

"I don't like...cold, wet, things."

Elsa laughed, too hard, and everyone stared when they heard her ethereal laugh. She stopped after a few seconds, but it looked like she was struggling not to get hooked with a case of the giggles. "Forks must be a difficult place for you to live in," she teased.

"You have no idea," I tried to mutter darkly; but, it was hard to be gloomy when Elsa was so charmingly amused.

She looked fascinated by what I said, for some reason I couldn't grasp. Her face had such a magnetism that I tried desperately not to stare too much at her eyes more than courtesy demanded. The window, with rain, was not in any way distracting but it was all I had to look at that.

"Why did you move here, then?"

No one had bothered to ask me that, before – not so straight-forward and precise. She caught me off guard, and I awkwardly tugged on my fingers in a fidget over my notebook.

"It's...complicated."

"Try me," Elsa insisted, her voice so eager to know.

I paused for a long moment, and then made the mistake of meeting her gaze. Her dark gold eyes subdued me, and I found myself answering even though I didn't usually share intimate details about myself.

"My mother got remarried."

Her face lit up with perplexity. "That doesn't sound so complex, to me," she disagreed; but, her tones were so kind and sympathetic. "Were they recently married?"

"Last September..." the words fell from my lips like raindrops; sad and wet.

"Do you not like your step-father?" She inquired, her voice still soft.

"No – Phil's great. Too young for my mom, maybe, but he's a nice guy."

Elsa tapped her fingers gently against the table in thought, as though she was playing some imaginary tune to better concentrate on her thoughts. "Why couldn't you stay with them, then?"

Why was she so interested in me? I couldn't fathom her interest; and yet, she continued to stare at me with her gorgeous penetrating eyes. As if my dull life story was somehow vitally important to her.

"Phil travels a lot, he plays baseball for a living," I half smiled, half cringed, at the recollection. "Mom would stay home with me while he's gone, and I know it made her unhappy, so I thought I'd spend some time with my dad for a while."

She pursed her lips in thought. "Is Phil a famous baseball player?"

I shook my head. "No, he doesn't play -that- well, he's minor league."

She pursed her lips, and I found myself watching the way she thoughtfully touched her chin with her other hand. Her fingernails were so clean and perfect – no fake nails, like Rosalie, but they looked like they had been painted on her hand from how beautiful they were to me.

"I don't understand," she finally whispered, smirking her crooked smile at me, making my knees melt and my heart-rate quicken unbeknownst to me. "You came here to make your mom happy? And now you're unhappy?"

Her question struck me, and I bit down on my lip nervously. Sighing even, as I didn't know why I was so strangely open with her. Her open, obvious, curiosity was like a drug to me. "Forks isn't all bad..."

She didn't believe me, probably because there was some truth or grimace on my face she could read with her dark gold irises. "Even so, you seem so morose. Tis hardly fair for you to be unhappy when she is happy."

Something of a weak laugh escaped me, genuine as it was. "Well, life is hardly fair. I know if our situation was reversed, she'd do it for me."

"And yet, I would be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see."

A grimace took over my mouth; why did she care? Why was she pointing this out? I didn't want anyone to know I was unhappy, then people would feel sorry for me – and the idea of Elsa feeling sorry for me was a blow to me.

Glancing away in haste, to resist acting out like an angry five year old at her being so 'on the nose', I'd hoped the conversation was over. It wasn't.

"Am I wrong?" She asked, so serenely, with such sympathy and yearning, that I didn't know how to react.

When I didn't speak, and pretended to ignore her, she had her answer. When I peeked at her, she was smiling smugly at me.

"Why does it matter to you, if I'm unhappy here?" I asked, mild irritation sticking to my words like the snow of earlier today. Keeping my eyes away, I watched Mr. Banner making his rounds to the other tables.

Elsa didn't answer me, she turned her head away and whispered something quietly under her breath. It sounded like she said 'that's a very good question', but to herself more than making a reply to me.

We both sat in mutual silence for the longest thirty seconds of my life up til that point. When I peeked to look at her hands, see if they were clenched into fists under the desk again, her hands were resting weakly on her thighs. Palms sitting over her pale skinny jeans non-threateningly, and perhaps she saw this as a moment to speak again.

"Am I annoying you, with my questions?" She asked, as though amused at the idea that she could bother me so strongly.

Glancing at her face without thinking, the truth fell out of me again. "Not exactly, I'm more annoyed with myself. I have a really easy to read face, I guess, my mom always says so."

"On the contrary" – Elsa mentioned, pausing and tilting her head to gently scrutinize my expression – "I find you rather difficult to read."

Even though she had pinpointed everything about me so far, it really sounded like she meant what she said, and it surprised me.

"You must be a really good reader, then," I replied, more cheerfully than I felt.

"Usually," she beamed to me, flashing a set of perfect – ultra-white – teeth.

Before I could answer, Mr. Banner called the class to order then, and I turned to listen to him. Still in shock and disbelief that I had so easily shared my dreary life story to someone in the scope of five minutes. To a bizarre, beautiful, girl who may or may not despise me. She'd seemed to engrossed in our conversation; but, from the corner of my eye I saw that she was leaning away from me again. Her hands gripping the edge of the table with an unmistakable tension. Why be nice to me if she didn't like being around me? I couldn't honestly tell, if she liked me more or less.

Attempting to at least appear attentive as Mr. Banner illustrated on the board, I kept my eyes on the overhead projector. My thoughts, however, were unmanageable and nothing of science held any substance in my head.

When the bell finally rang, Elsa rushed as swift-fully and as gracefully from the room as she had last Monday...and like last Monday, I gazed after her vanishing form in amazement.

Mike skipped quickly to my side and picked up my books for me before I could stop him. If it was possible, I imagined him with a wagging tail, he was so happy as he watched me.

"Congrats for winning!" He said, and I totally spaced that Elsa and I had won the stupid Golden Onion trophy. Looking at where it was on the lab desk, I took it in my hand; thinking about how Elsa had carefully spun it in her fingers during Mr. Banner's lesson. She had touched it, I held it now, and some small sliver of electricity pooled into my palms from the shared touch of the stupid shiny onion.

"Oh, yeah, thanks," I replied, and he beamed as he tried to hold his hand out for me to take it.

Clearly Mike was expectant, hoping I would take his hand, but that would look to others like we were dating – and discomfort filled me. I, as much as I liked Mike, didn't feel for him that way. Guilt filled me as I stood without grabbing his hand and pushed the chair in with my foot.

"You're lucky you had Elsa on your team, I hear she's real smart," he said, and I felt myself cringe. Of course she was. "That was awful, though, all the slides looked the same.."

"Well, I didn't have any trouble with it," I replied indignantly, not liking the idea that Mike thought I only won because Elsa was on my team. Regret filled me for the snub I made, unconsciously. "I mean, I've done this lab before, in Phoenix."

He seemed to not realize I had snubbed him, or he forgave it already. "Elsa seemed friendly enough today..." he hinted at me as we shrugged into our raincoats. His voice was warm and encouraging, like he was trying to reassure me that no one couldn't like me here.

"Yeah, she was. I wonder what was with her last Monday," I said, in as indifferent a voice as I could muster, and we continued on to Gym.

Mike sure chattered a lot, especially on the trip to La Push, which he brought up again and looked at me expectantly. Feeling like he was just going to keep asking, I bit down on my lip and finally gave him an answer. "Well, since everyone else is going, I guess I'll go, too."

Mike looked like he was going to snoopy dance out of his skin with the grin on his face. "Cool, we can plan more on it later."

Mike was on my team today, and he chivalrously covered my position on the Volleyball team as well as his own, so my wool gathering was only interrupted when it was my turn to serve.

My team ducked warily out of the way every time I was up to serve; but, they did their best to not make me feel embarrassed about it. Mike seemed to be going out of his way to protect me, which made Jessica look at him with pain on her face, and I inwardly groaned.

Sooner or later, I had to nip this in the bud, I just didn't like Mike, kind and sweet as he was.

The rain was settling into a mist as I walked out into the parking lot after Gym ended, but I was happier once I was in the dry cab of The Beast. Turning the ignition to run the heater, for once not caring of how loud the mind-numbing roar of his engine was, my brain was far from Mike or the rain. I unzipped my jacket, put the hood down, and fluffed my damp hair so that the heater could dry it on the way home.

Glancing around to make sure the coast was clear, that's when I noticed the still, white, figure. Elsa Cullen was leaning against the front door of the Volvo, three cars down from me, and staring intently in my direction.

We stared at each other until Alice joined her and gently touched Elsa's arm, something playful on her pixie face at having caught Elsa staring at me.

Swiftly looking away once eye-contact was broken, I threw the Beast into reverse, almost hitting a rusty Toyota Corolla in my haste!

Luckily for the Toyota, I stomped on the break in time not to hit it. It was just the sort of car that my old truck would make scrap metal out of. Taking a deep, worried, breath as the owner of the Toyota loudly expressed his unease at me, I cautiously pulled out again with greater success.

Trying desperately to stare ahead of me as I passed their Volvo; but, from a peripheral peek, I could swear I saw Elsa laughing at me.


End file.
